


The Stars Could Not Compete

by 2jamie



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Developing Relationship, Drug Use, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, Gen, Getting Together, M/M, Some angst, Time Travel, Timelines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-09 20:36:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2jamie/pseuds/2jamie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson. Through time (and space). With a madman in a box.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1983

**Author's Note:**

> Now also available in [Chinese](http://www.mtslash.com/forum.php?mod=viewthread&tid=91077&extra=) (translated by donod312).

_Part one_

“Doctor, she does _not_ sound too happy about whatever it is you’re doing to her!” John Watson shouted over the sounds of small explosions that were taking place in the console room. He looked as the Doctor ran madly around the consol, trying in vain to stop a small fire. Suddenly, the whole ship shook violently, sending her passengers to the floor. Unattended, the fire slowly started spreading.

“Don’t panic, I’ve got it!” the Doctor shouted as he picked himself up and ran towards one of the many corridors. John looked helplessly after him before turning his gaze to the fire. “Look out!” was the only warning he got as he was hit with foam from a small fire extinguisher the Doctor had managed to produce from somewhere.

As soon as the fire was under control, the Time Lord dashed to the console, pushed some buttons, pulled a lever here and pushed another one there, said “Hold on tight!” without even turning to John, and promptly forgot to get a hold of something himself before the ship shook once again and suddenly stopped.

The alien jumped back to his feet, reached out his hand to help John get to his feet, and dragged him towards the door. “Out! I think I’ve upset her a bit too much,” he said as they exited the TARDIS and stepped into a well kept garden. “I was only trying to make her more comfortable during our long absences, since I don’t want her to get bored. There was no need to react like this,” the Time Lord said as he stroked the door to his precious ship.

“I think she can take care of herself just fine in that department, you know?” John said as he shook off some remaining ash. He raised an eyebrow as the Doctor turned to him ready to argue. “Anyway, where are we?” John changed the subject. “And when, of course. Seems quite familiar, if a bit posh.” He looked at a mansion that emerged from behind the few trees surrounding the TARDIS.

“England, for sure,” the Doctor answered letting the precious subject go. “Somewhere in Surrey, I think. I’d say...early 1980s going by the smell. Terrible, that one. Now, the 20s smelled lovely...” he trailed off as he moved farther from the TARDIS to inspect the garden.

“Show off,” muttered John and followed the Doctor. It was always better to know where the alien was headed, at the very least.

***

Sherlock Holmes sat at the kitchen table, with first aid kit in front of him, trying to clean a cut on his right hand. Since Mycroft had gone away to school, he had to take care of all his cuts and bruises himself. He could always ask Mummy for help, but she was less than pleased every time she saw him playing pirates, and he’d rather avoid upsetting her even more. The ruined garden party from last weekend was probably more than enough to make her angry with him for now. Even though he had not done anything wrong. Much.

Suddenly, Sherlock heard a strange noise coming in from the garden. The six year old glanced through the window and saw a blue box appearing in the far corner, near the trees. He hid the kit in one of the many kitchen drawers and opened the garden door. Quietly, he approached the new addition to the well-known scenery, but stopped suddenly as he saw two men running out of the box. As they talked and disregarded their surroundings for a few more moments, Sherlock resumed his walking. He stopped by the bushes once again, when the taller of the two strode towards the house, quickly followed by the other man.

The fist man stopped in the middle of the garden, took something out of his pocket and flashed it around. For a second, Sherlock was too absorbed in what the man was doing to remember about the second stranger, and moved closer.

“Oh, hello.” Sherlock quickly turned to the shorter, blond man. He met his eyes and for a second he thought that he saw the man’s eyes widen. But if he had been surprised by something, the man quickly recovered. “Sorry about this. Unplanned stop. There’s no need to call anyway, promise,” the short man said with a smile.

“I wasn’t going to.” Sherlock eyed the stranger. He was wearing a jumper, but not like the ones Father used to wear during winter. This one was a cable knit beige thing that his mother would despair the very notion of. Sherlock loved it almost immediately. “Who are you?”

“How rude of me,” the blond said with a small smile. “My name’s John. John Watson. And you are...?”

“Sherlock Holmes.”

“Sherlock...” John repeated as if something suddenly clicked in his mind. He looked more closely at the boy in front of him, finally settling on his hand. “Shouldn’t you get that cleaned?” he asked kneeling down.

“I was just doing it, when you landed,” Sherlock said and allowed the man – John – to inspect his hand. This new position allowed him to observe John better. “You’re a doctor,” he said before he remembered the last time he had spoken his deductions out loud.

But John only smiled warmly at him and stood up. “I am,” he said. “And how’d you know that?” he asked, sounding curious rather than angry, and Sherlock could not resist pointing out the obvious.

“You’ve just examined my cut. You did not take a quick glance at it, but rather made sure there are no fragments in it, whilst being careful not to touch the cut itself. Your hands have ash residue on them, and you did not want it to get into the cut skin on my hand. There are also some nearly faded impressions from a stethoscope the back of your neck, so you’ve not been practicing recently,” Sherlock fired off and then fell silent just as quickly. He waited for John to lash out, and probably turn in disgust, but the man continued just to smile at him.

“That’s amazing,” John said simply.

“You really think so?” Sherlock asked a little unsure of himself.

“Of course.”

In that moment, the second stranger appeared right next to them. He looked from Sherlock to John and back to Sherlock.

“Hello,” he said cheerfully. “I see you’ve already met, do you want to introduce me, maybe, John?” he suggested as he glanced briefly at John again.

“As if you needed me for basic introduction,” the blond supplied with a smirk seeing the alien dropping to his knees in front of Sherlock.

“No, no, you’re quite right,” the Time Lord answered sending a smile to his companion. “Social conventions are mostly overrated. Anyway, I’m the Doctor, but more importantly, who are you, eh?” he directed the last sentence at the boy in front of him.

“Sherlock,” the six year old repeated. “Sherlock Holmes.”


	2. 1983

_Part two_

Sherlock led the two men to the kitchen. Once there, he found the first aid kit again and handed it to John. Without prompting John began taking care of the cut.

“So how did you get this one?” he asked the boy once he had finished. Sherlock looked at him uncertainly for a second, but seeing the soft smile on the man’s face, he answered.

“I was looking for the treasure.” That earned him a raised eyebrow from John. I also got the Doctor’s attention, who up until that moment had been rummaging through the kitchen cupboards.

“Treasure? What treasure?” the alien asked suddenly curious.

“The pirate treasure, of course,” Sherlock said, leaving out ‘obviously’ at the end of the sentence. He looked to John and rolled his eyes. That earned him an amused snort from the blond man. Sherlock liked him more and more with each passing moment.

“Oh. Oh! You were playing!” the Doctor hit his forehead with his hand in understanding.”Of course, you even look like a pirate! Well, some of them, at least. Not all of them want to follow the tradition,” the alien trailed off and then returned to the cupboards. After a few more seconds a victorious ‘Ah-ha!’ could be heard, before the Doctor took out a jar of honey, opened it, dipped his finger in and began eating the honey in earnest.

“Doctor...” John said, looking at the Time Lord with a small frown. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

The man in question looked quizzically at John, then at Sherlock, who was eyeing him with a smirk on his face. Finally, he looked at the honey jar in his hand. He drew his hand forward, offering the honey to the two humans. “Would you like some? It’s delicious.”

Sherlock giggled as John just sighed. The blond looked at the boy again, cracking a smile himself.

“I think I’ll pass, thank you,” he said.

***

“So you travel through time and space in this box?” Sherlock asked the Doctor. They were back in the garden, with the TARDIS back to her full capacity.

“Yes, basically,” the alien grinned. “Would you like to see?”

“You say I can come with you?” the boy asked in awe. He looked at John, who wore a small frown on his face. “...you don’t want me to come?” he asked, his excitement already dampened.

“No, it’s not that,” John said seriously. “I was just thinking...” he looked at the Doctor, “Is this a good idea? I mean, our last trip didn’t exactly end well, did it?”

“Whatever do you mean? Didn’t you like Barcelona?” the alien sounded almost offended.

“Oh, I loved it. Especially the running,” John answered calmly.”

“I’m a good runner. I can keep up with you, John, I promise,” Sherlock cut in, looking hopefully at John again.

“I’m sure you can,” John turned back to Sherlock. “The point is we were running away from a murderous crowd. I hardly think that’s the sort of trip you should experience,” he explained kneeling in front of the boy. There was a single tear at the corner of Sherlock’s eye that he tried valiantly not to let it fall. “Couldn’t we... I don’t know, check a location first, then come back and take him for one trip?” John asked to the Doctor, allowing Sherlock to compose himself.

“Of course we can! Come on, John, I’ve got a fantastic place in mind,” the Doctor grinned and opened the door to the TARDIS. “Sherlock, you’ve got five minutes to go and pack whatever it is you think you’ll need on a different planet. Pack for a forest. And a beach. And some ruins. Make sure you have good shoes!” the alien’s voice carried from inside the ship. “Hurry up, John!”

“Just a second!” the human shouted back with a smile before he turned back to the six years old in front of him. “I want you to come, I really do,” he said.

“I won’t be any trouble, I promise, John. You can trust me,” Sherlock whispered, desperate to stay with his new friend. Because John was a friend, Sherlock was certain of this. “Please.”

“I know I can,” the man answered with just as much certainty as Sherlock felt. “I trust you. What I don’t trust, however, is his,” John nodded in the direction of the ship, “sense of time. He says five minutes, but it doesn’t always work like this. Sometimes he can really mess that up,” John said thoughtfully, remembering his first trip. He shook his head. “What I’m trying to say is that it can take a while before we’re back to take you,” he looked straight into Sherlock’s eyes, willing the boy to understand. “But however long it takes, we are coming back.”

Sherlock locked his gaze with John for a minute or two. He looked for any sign of deception on the man’s side, but he saw none. Slowly, he nodded his understanding.

“Good,” John said breaking their eye contact to look back the mansion. “And promise me one more thing,” he said frowning just a little.

“Anything,” Sherlock answered.

John turned his head back to the boy. His smile turned a little sad as he said “Don’t ever change. No matter what happens, always be yourself, okay?” he asked with a serious expression.

“I promise,” Sherlock whispered again and smiled.

“John!” the Doctor’s head appeared in the TARDIS’ door. “What’s taking you so long?”

“I’m coming,” the human said standing up. He extended his hand to Sherlock, who shook it. “See you soon,” he said before going inside.

“Be right back, Sherlock,” the Doctor smiled as he closed the door.

Sherlock watched as the blue box disappeared from his garden. He finally let the stray tear fall down his cheek.

“Goodbye, John,” he said to himself moving back towards the house. “Please come back.”


	3. 1998

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With warning for drug use.

Sherlock settled himself comfortably in the floor in front of the small coffee table. The syringe was already full of cocaine solution. He looked at the clock on the wall.

Five minutes. He always waited five minutes before shooting the drugs up. After all, anything could happen in those five minutes.

Not that anything _had_ ever happened.

He thought back to a summer day in 1983.

“Promises...”

As the clock marked the passing of five minutes, Sherlock rolled up the sleeve on his left arm. He took the syringe into his hand and found a vein. There was no hesitation in his movements. Quick. Efficient. Practiced.

In his haze, he thought he heard the engine sounds somewhere the flat. A sly smile came into his face. A ship materialising. That’s why he did it, every time, after all.

“Sherlock!” This was new. “Oh, God, no, please, you _idiot!_ ” That voice...

***

Consciousness slowly crept up on him. He observed with his eyes still closed. Machines beeping, an oxygen mask on his face, and some yet unidentified movement to his right. He forced his eyes open, only to be hit by a bright light. His whole body ached.

“Welcome back.” Sherlock looked to his left only to see his brother sitting in a chair next to his bed. At the same time, a nurse, who was on the right side, took his mask off.

“Do you know who you are?” she asked, scribbling something on his chart.

“Yes, of course!” His voice was hoarse. “And I know where I am, before you...” he managed to croak before his voice gave up on him. The nurse looked up from the chart, and then moved to give him a glass of water. He sipped quickly and cleared his throat.

“The doctor will be right with you,” the nurse said as she left the room. For a single second, Sherlock was confused. Had _they_ come here with him? Then he realised she must have meant a medical doctor from the hospital, to look him over.

“What are you doing in here,” he said to his brother focusing on something other than disappointment. “Shouldn’t you be starting a war somewhere?”

Mycroft looked at him stoically. “Possibly. However your overdose seemed a more pressing matter at the time,” he said finally.

“As you can clearly see, I am alive. You can leave now,” Sherlock snapped. He looked around the room, noticing every detail and dismissing them as irrelevant. Of course he had a private room. He was probably going to get whisked away to some private rehab centre. Probably why Mycroft had insisted on staying until he regained consciousness. “Spare us both the trouble, Mycroft. I’m not going anywhere.”

His brother said nothing, the only indication that he had heard Sherlock was a minute pursing of his lips. “Very well,” he said. “You got Mummy worried. She expressed a wish to see you as soon as you are out of the hospital.”

“I do not...” Sherlock started, but was interrupted by Mycroft.

“I told her it might take a while,” the elder Holmes stood up from the chair. He took a piece of paper from his breast pocket and gave it to Sherlock. “This was on your table, when the paramedics arrived.” Without a goodbye, Mycroft turned around and walked out of the room.

Sherlock looked at the paper in his hand. Only two words were scribbled hastily down.

_You promised._


	4. 2011

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short one today, sorry.

_Part one_

“In case you haven’t noticed, Mike, I am a rather hard man to live with,” Sherlock shot the man a fake smile. Mike chuckled at that.

“I’m sure that’s not all true,” he said. “There’s always someone.”

“Mmm, I doubt it.”

“You’re impossible sometimes.” Mike shook his head a little. “Are you going out for lunch?” he asked already expecting a negative answer.

“Not hungry,” Sherlock muttered.

“Don’t blow up the laboratory, then,” Mike said heading for the door.

“Boring.”

***

Sherlock was measuring out chemicals into a petri dish, when he heard _that_ noise. The TARDIS engines, appearing somewhere near, probably in one of the corridors. He stood still, eyes on the wall opposite him, listening carefully, pinpointing the position of the ship. When the noise subsided, Sherlock dashed out of the laboratory, slowing down only to grab his coat and putting it on as he ran.

“Sherlock!” he heard Mike’s voice calling from behind him, but he didn’t stop. He kept on running, looking for that blue box.

Two more corners and there it was. Sherlock reached it just as the door opened and he promptly crashed into John. They both fell inside the ship, the door closing behind them. Sherlock looked into John’s eyes, only an inch or two away from his and drew in a sudden breath.

“You haven’t changed,” he rasped out.

“And hello to you, too,” John said with a shy smile.

“Sherlock! Finally!” the Doctor shouted, standing by the console. Seeing that the door had closed already, the alien pulled a lever, and the three passengers heard the engines starting again as they faded away from the hospital.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” John interrupted Sherlock’s close observation of the older man’s face, “but you don’t exactly weight nothing.”

Sherlock jerked back suddenly and scraped back up, his movements graceless for the first time in years. He could feel his ears flushing a little at the tips. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“It’s alright.” John was now sitting on the floor, looking sternly at Sherlock. “Care to explain what were you thinking the last time we saw you?” Sherlock met John’s eyes again, but remained silent. Neither man seemed willing to speak first, so the Doctor cut in.

“He’s better now, John, let’s focus on that,” he said softly. “And I’m sure he won’t do _that_ again. Will you?” he addressed Sherlock directly.

“No. Never. I promise,” he said with certainty, moving his eyes to the alien after a few seconds.

“Good,” said the Doctor. “Now, if I remember correctly, we were supposed to take you somewhere.”

“But you no longer need to check for safety first,” Sherlock smirked feeling more like himself. As he glanced at John, he saw a small smile directed at him. He might not have been forgiven yet, but he was definitely on the right track.

And, more importantly, home.


	5. All of time and space

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it seems I can't write longer chapters. Sorry about that.

“So!” the Doctor rubbed his hands and grinned as the two humans joined him by the console. “Anywhere specific you’d like to go first, Sherlock?”

“I thought you were supposed to have a place ready,” Sherlock answered with a sly grin of his own.

“I very much doubt it that an abandoned pirate ship is still a valid option,” John cut in. “Or is it?” he laughed seeing a gleeful expression on Sherlock’s face. “I think that’s trip one covered. Just don’t mess up the date this time, Doctor.”

***

“Right,” the Doctor said quickly closing the door behind them. “Wrong date. I should really sort that out.” John glared at him, leaning back against one of the rails and breathing heavily. “It was only thirty years!”

They were both interrupted by a sudden giggle. The two looked at Sherlock, also slightly out of breath from all the running, but who was at the same time nearly doubled over and overcame with sudden laughter. In spite of himself, John joined him as their eyes met.

Neither man noticed that the Doctor, whilst laughing with them, was also carefully studying Sherlock.

***

“Okay, this time I got it right, I promise,” the Doctor said triple checking the scanners and monitors.

“Where are we?” asked John, who was quickly followed by Sherlock with “When are we?”

“The year is 3289, we’re in Helix Nebula,” the Doctor started explaining, “And it’s the Stellar Wind celebrations time.” He placed his right arm on John’s shoulders and left on Sherlock’s and gently drew them towards the TARDIS’ door. “I should warn you we’re not on any actual planet yet, so if you step out, please be careful.”

“And what exactly is a Stellar Wind?” asked John.

“Why don’t you take a look?” the Doctor said as he pulled both sides of the door open.

John looked amazed at the light show taking place in front of his eyes. He glanced down and judged it safe to take a few steps outside. He stopped at the edge of the rock they had landed on and sat down.

“Go on, Sherlock,” the Doctor motioned the other human with his arm. “Look at those stars and tell me they’re not beautiful.”

As Sherlock went outside, the Doctor noticed that he was not looking at the stars, but at John. He watched the play of lights and shadows on the man’s face, the wondered expression, and the soft smile. The smile that Sherlock remembered from his childhood; the memory of which had helped him through the tediousness of school and the cruelty of his peers; the one he had taken cocaine to recall better in his late teens. John’s smile. The last smile that had ever been directed at him without an ulterior motive.

“You have it bad, don’t you?” the alien whispered for only Sherlock to hear. The young man jerked his head to look at the Doctor. He swallowed hard and nodded almost imperceptibly. He then strode towards John and took a seat next to him. The blond man looked over his shoulder to the Doctor.

“All this time and you still surprise me with every journey we make,” John smiled at the alien and got a grin in return. He did not notice Sherlock watching him from the corner of his eye.

***

“Victorian London,” the Doctor said as the engines stopped. “And before you ask, we’re not here for long. I’m sure it’s a trifle.”

“What is?” Sherlock asked coming into the console room. He had just found the TARDIS’ wardrobe and was now sporting a fresh purple shirt and skinny jeans that he had found there.

“Oh, Vastra sends a message. Something about a society for gingers,” the Doctor said righting his bowtie. “She wants me to take a look and make sure it’s all right.” He headed to the door, but stopped mid-distance. “Do you two want to go or do you prefer to sit this one out?” The two humans fixed him with matching glares. “Off we go, then!” And with a grin on his face, the alien left, leaving the door open for his companions to follow.

John shook his head, again, and started moving. As he passed Sherlock on his way, the other man suddenly asked him “Don’t you ever change?” John followed Sherlock’s gaze to his own clothes.

“I changed my jumper,” he answer with a cheeky grin. “Besides, I think I’ll leave the fancy wardrobe to you,” he said as he resumed walking. “Seems to be your division.”

***

“Oh, isn’t this clever,” Sherlock steepled his fingers under his chin.

“Very clever,” the Doctor agreed.

“Baffling, more like,” John said under his breath, knowing better than to question his two friends.

“But doesn’t that mean...?”

“Oh, most definitely.”

“Of course, it would require time...”

“And resources...”

“But then he has an easy access to both...”

“And it wasn’t difficult convincing him to try...”

“Child’s play.”

“And now they’re nearly done...”

“So it has to be tonight...”

Both Vastra and John watched the exchange between the two geniuses. Neither of them understood what was discussed, if one could call it a discussion. But when the Doctor suddenly ran out of the room, quickly followed by Sherlock, they caught on quite quickly that they need to run after them.

***

“That was one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever done,” John giggled as he once again stepped breathless into the TARDIS after his two friends. “You two are completely impossible.” Sherlock cracked him a smile.

“Just a little bit unlikely,” the Doctor smiled as he set up the coordinates, so that they could float in space for the time being.

“And just how do you know so much about crime?” John turned to Sherlock.

“That’s what I do now,” Sherlock answered. “Well, before you came. In 2011. I’m a consulting detective.”

“A consulting detective?”

“Yes, the only one in the world. I invented the job,” Sherlock said, finally able to brag a little before John.

“What does that mean?” John asked with interest in his eyes.

“It means whenever the police are out of their depth — which is always — they consult me,” Sherlock said with a smile.

“I knew you’d come far,” John said proudly. When he started to yawn, he headed towards one of the corridors that lead to his room. “All right. I need to sleep it all off, so don’t you two get into much trouble whilst I’m gone.”

Sherlock watched him go and slowly the smile slipped off his face. “Oh, and Sherlock?” he looked up as John called, his head sticking out from around the corner. “Tomorrow over breakfast you’re telling me more about that consulting of your. Good night.”


	6. The beginning of the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realise that Sherlock in this story is rather OOC, but I think meeting an alien and your first true friend (and probably only one for a very long time) at teh age of six might have an influence on your personality. Or maybe I'm just making up excuses for my poor writing skills.

The next morning over breakfast, or what passed for thereof in the TARDIS, Sherlock had been telling John about his cases for well over an hour before they were interrupted by the Doctor.

“Sherlock,” the alien asked hesitantly, “do you by any chance know anyone called ‘Mycroft Holmes’?” Sherlock scowled at him before replying.

“What has he done now?”

“He sent me a message,” said the Doctor. “It reads along the lines of ‘Get him here now.’ I’m assuming he means you.”

“Oh, dear,” John said, a piece of toast halfway to his mouth. “How long have you forgotten this time?”

“Only three months, give or take,” the Doctor said acting nonchalantly. “I’d say that’s a progress, wouldn’t you?”

“I suppose it is,” John sighed. “When are we going, then? I never did catch your current year,” he smiled at Sherlock.

“Beginning of April, 2011,” the Doctor answered for him. “Quite convenient for you, as well, I’d say.”

“Why is that?” Sherlock asked with a small frown forming on his face.

“I need to make sure my landlady hasn’t rented my flat to anyone and I need to visit Harry. My sister,” John added seeing a searching look on Sherlock’s face.

“We better get a move on, then,” the Doctor said before exiting the kitchen.

***

“This is your brother,” John said incredulously whilst staring at the information on the screen. “ _This_ is your _brother_.”

“It’s just Mycroft, John,” Sherlock replied slightly annoyed. “Hardly the Queen.”

“It says here he’s basically the British Government,” John continued.

“And probably the most dangerous man in Britain, yes, can we move on?”

***

“Right!” the Doctor said as the TARDIS landed. “Second of April, 2011, London, Northumberland Street. Now, you two off and be quick. I just thought of a perfect place to take you two to.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?” Sherlock asked as he and John exited the ship and headed towards Trafalgar Square, John for the tube and Sherlock for Whitehall.

“Sorry,” John shook his head apologetically. “I’ve already called Mrs Hudson, but Harry... Can’t be helped. She filed a missing person report once, when I didn’t get in touch quick enough.”

Sherlock nodded, muttered an ‘of course,’ and continued to walk in silence, only sporadically stealing glances at John. As much as he had since his late teens and still did now wish otherwise, it seemed to be the only thing he could have with John, apart from the other man’s friendship. It was still worth it.

“I’ll see you later, then,” Sherlock said as they reached the nearest tube station. John looked at him for moment, seemingly deep in thought. He shivered as he came back to himself. He suddenly moved to envelop Sherlock in a one arm hug.

“See you,” he said, winked at Sherlock and moved down the stairs. The taller man watched him disappear slightly dazed.

***

A few hours and a highly annoying conversation with Mycroft later, Sherlock was running back to the TARDIS. He grinned as he spotted the ship had not moved. He entered, the grin still on his face, only to be met with dead silence. He saw the Doctor sitting in one of the seats in the console room, playing with a small piece of paper that he held in his hands. The alien looked up as Sherlock approached him. He shot the human a small, though unconvincing smile.

“Ah, finally you’re back. We can go now,” the Doctor said sadly and stood up, so that he faced Sherlock now.

“John’s not back yet,” the human replied, bravely looking deep into the Doctor’s eyes. “We need to wait.”

The smile turned sad as the alien watched him. “He’s not coming with us.”

“Then let’s skip this one,” said Sherlock, rejecting the true meaning of the words. “I’m sure whatever it is you want to show me would be much better, if John were to come with us,” he carried on regardless of the expression that came up on the alien face.

“He’s gone home, Sherlock.” The Doctor put one hand on the human’s shoulder, cupping his face with the other, so that he had Sherlock’s full attention. “He’s staying in London, 2011. Leaving his life day after day.”

“NO!” Sherlock recoiled from the alien. “He can’t! He didn’t even say goodbye to me!”

“Sherlock...” the Doctor tried to soothe the other man. “He has a right to choose.”

“Don’t you understand? He’s the only one worth anything! The stars could not compete with the way his eyes shine with mirth every time he smiles. All of time and space mean nothing if he’s not dare to share it with. What’s the point of seeing all of it, when _he’s not here._ ” Sherlock stopped, a sob escaping him. He turned away from the alien to compose himself.

The Doctor looked sadly at Sherlock’s back before turning him around to face him again. He said nothing as he hugged the young man. Sherlock closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. When they parted, Sherlock felt the Doctor giving him the piece of paper he was toying with earlier. There wasn’t much written on it, and Sherlock tightly shut his eyes as his heart broke a little.

_Goodbye, Sherlock._


	7. 1991

“He asked for one thing,” the Doctor said, once Sherlock had calmed down. “One last trip for you. Like he knew you’d be leaving,” he smiled sadly.

“Where?” Sherlock asked and dropped into one of the seats in the console room. He raised his eyebrow, when the sad smile on the alien’s face turned into a playful grin.

“London.” The human rolled his eyes.

“When, then,” he said, his voice almost resigned.

“1991,” answered the Doctor. At Sherlock’s doubtful expression, he added: “Oh, come on. The lest you can do is give it a try. I promise not to get it wrong this time.” The doubtful expression only deepened. “Trust me on this one.”

Sighing loudly, Sherlock did.

***

“Well, there’s not much going on in here, is there?” Sherlock stated. They had parked in a small alley near St. Bart’s and were now wandering around the hospital on the lookout for anything that John might have wanted them to see.

Suddenly, someone ran into Sherlock’s back. The other person began to apologise even before Sherlock managed to turn around. It couldn’t be...

“Really sorry, should’ve watched where I’m going,” John said with an apologetic smile. “Are you all right? You look a bit pale.”

Sherlock, shaken with seeing a younger version of John, managed a quick “I’m fine.” John was still smiling at Sherlock, if a little unsure.

At that moment, the Doctor joined them, and upon seeing John he grinned gleefully, looking from the blond to Sherlock and back again.

“Told you it’d be worth it, didn’t I?” said the alien. They were interrupted by the arrival of two police cars that parked next to the entrance to the hospital. John quickly turned his head in that direction and then back to Sherlock.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m supposed to be inside. They want to question everyone who was on night shift.” The blond turned, ready to go inside the building, but was stopped by Sherlock’s voice.

“What happened during the night shift?” he asked coming back to himself.

“They found a body,” John answered. “Looks like a suicide, but...” he hesitated.

“But?” Sherlock asked, suddenly very interested not only in John.

“Well, it doesn’t make much sense,” was the reply. “He was in no way connected with St. Bart’s. From what they’ve told us so far, the man only just came down to London from Manchester. Supposedly on holiday.”

Sherlock arched a brow at that. The Doctor, who up until this moment stood next to him with a pleased smile on his face, turned to him and his expression changed to one of seriousness.

“No,” he said. Sherlock just tilted his head at the alien. “A cold case is one thing, but this is interfering.”

“Is it?” Sherlock asked, feigning naivety. “But he gave you this exact date. Why would he do that, if not because...” he stopped seeing John’s questioning expression.

“Maybe I should leave you two to sort out...whatever it is you’re talking about,” John said and once again turned to go. “See you again, maybe,” he added before disappearing inside the building.

Sherlock looked after him, then turned to the Doctor.

“Don’t tell me it’s a coincidence,” he challenged the alien. “You and I both know such things don’t exist.”

The Doctor looked at him, already resigned. “All right, supposing you’re right, how are you going to explain to him who you are?”

Sherlock looked into the distance for a minute, remembering his first meeting with John, all those years in his mother’s garden. He realised that John had not known his name before that moment, but had recognised him somehow, that much he was certain of right now.

“I’ll just have to make him trust me, won’t I?” he said absently, more to himself than to the Doctor, before blinking away the memories and heading towards the entrance of St. Bart’s. “You’re welcome to wait this one out,” he smirked hearing the other man’s footsteps follow him.

“Someone has to make sure you don’t blow this up,” the Doctor said with a fond smile.

***

“Oh, hello,” John said when he saw Sherlock and Doctor enter the locker room. He sent them a smile as he moved to the door.

“What else can you tell me about this apparent ‘suicide’ that is odd?” Sherlock stopped him from leaving.

“Um, I’m not quite sure I should...” John started, but the other man interrupted him.

“Nonsense,” Sherlock said. “I’m a consultant for the police. You can tell me anything you told them.”

“Can’t you just read my statement?” John asked doubtful.

“Tedious, I prefer to hear it first-hand,” the taller man waved dismissively. “They always forget to bring me in for that. Really, you’d think there would be intelligent people on the force, but there almost never are,” he added foreseeing further questions from John. His reply earned him an amused grin from the blond. He also noticed the Doctor smirking at him from where he was leaning against a wall.

“All right,” John said after a few seconds. “What exactly do you want to know?”

***

“That was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done,” John panted leaning his back against a wall. Both he and Sherlock were breathing heavily. But both of them were also giggling uncontrollably.

“The running off with a stranger or chasing a cab through half of London?” Sherlock managed in between breaths.

“Both, actually,” John turned his head to smile at him. It was just as brilliant now as it ever had been and t was that one smile that Sherlock had never tired of seeing. He smiled back. “ _Are_ you going to introduce yourself?” John asked. Sherlock shook his head, keeping the smile on, before he replied.

“Not yet.”

John searched his eyes for a moment, before he shrugged and went along with it.

***

“Let me get this straight,” John said as he watched Jeff Hope being led away to a police car by one of the detectives on the scene. “A cabbie, who was paid to be a serial killer?”

Sherlock looked at John and nodded. “Looks like it.”

“Unbelievable. And you, even more, getting all that,” said John with wonder in his voice. “It was pretty amazing.” Even though he had heard John saying that to him before, Sherlock felt the tips of his ears warm a little at the praise. “So. Is it ‘yet’ yet?” John asked smirking. Sherlock heard the telltale sound of the TARDIS’ engines, and after a quick glance around the street he spotted the Doctor stepping out of his ship and leaning on the door, clearly waiting for him to join him.

“No,” he said slowly moving his eyes back to John. “I think I shall tell you that little secret the next time we meet.”

“Okay,” John said, his smile faltering only for a second. “How can I find you, then?” Sherlock only grinned like a Cheshire cat at that. “What?” John asked again.

“Nothing,” the taller man said. He looked John up and down, and settled on his face. “You’ll find me, if you don’t look,” he said enigmatically.

He was ready to go to the Doctor and go back to his times, when something stopped him. He looked into John’s eyes once again and suddenly leaned in and kissed the blond chastely on the lips. When he moved away, he noticed a surprised, though pleased, expression on the man’s face.

“Till we meet again, Doctor Watson,” Sherlock whispered and walked past him to join the Doctor.


	8. 2011

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I realise this is rather short, but it *is* a chapter of it's own.

_Part two_

“Mrs Hudson,” Sherlock stood still just next to the console. “He said his landlady is Mrs Hudson.”

“Yes,” the Doctor said. “Lovely old lady. Well, I say ‘old’...” he trailed off seeing Sherlock’s face. “What is it?”

“How could I have missed this!” the human span around. “It was so _obvious_!” seeing the Doctor’s confused face, Sherlock went on: “I was looking for a flatmate, before you appeared. I found a perfect flat, middle of London, a special deal, since the landlady owed me a favour, and promised to keep it for me for a bit till I found someone to help me pay the bill. It was Mrs Hudson.”

***

Sherlock knocked loudly on the door to 221, buzzed all three buzzers next to the door, and knocked again. When it finally opened, he grinned widely.

“Sherlock?” Mrs Hudson said surprised. “Dear, I’m afraid the flat’s already rented. I couldn’t wait that long, especially not after I couldn’t even get a hold of you,” she rambled on, unaware of Sherlock not listening to her. He was busy looking inside, at the stairs.

There he stood, in an oatmeal jumper, with a smile on his face, and a cup of tea in hid hand.

“Hello, Sherlock,” said John.

“Hello, John,” answered Sherlock.

He was home. And this time, forever.


	9. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is written in a slightly different way in comparison to previous parts.  
> Mentions drug use.

_John’s story_

John had lived an ordinary life for twenty-three years. And then he met the impossible man with no name and his friend.

The friend, however, had not interfered until they met again, twenty years later.

But it was the impossible man who changed his life. He took him on a wild chase across London, solving a mystery by looking, _really_ looking and seeing, all in one night. They ended up catching a serial killer that night, but that is a story many had told already. After that night, though, the impossible man disappeared from John’s life without revealing his name.

But he did kiss John right before walking away. And everything else had paled in comparison. For how could stars and all the worlds ever compete with a such a human human being?

After that John’s life came back to the ordinary. He studied, he partied, he dated, but all the time he scanned the crowds for the impossible man.

When he became a doctor, John joined the army. He was sent to wars to help the soldiers at the frontlines. In the meantime, he learnt how to be a soldier himself.

But then, when John was forty-two years old, he got shot. He was sent back to England to recover. When they had discovered that he was no longer fit for duty, he was discharged, honourably.

But the adrenaline that John Watson had lived on for the last few years of his life was now gone. His life no longer had a purpose. He no longer looked for the impossible man; what use would he be to him now that he was broken.

Some time later, John was walking through London, when he met an old friend from St. Bart’s, Mike Stamford. They had a coffee and talked about John’s life now. And Stamford knew someone who had been looking for a flatmate and who might have been just the person to share a flat with John. So he took him to the hospital to meet the mysterious man.

But as they neared the laboratory, where the man usually was whilst at Bart’s, someone ran out of the room. John could only see a blur as the man disappeared behind a corner. Stamford had called after him, but the man did not stop nor did he come back. That day John only learnt that the man’s name was Sherlock Holmes and that he was a consulting detective. And even though that seemed familiar, John dismissed it.

A few weeks later, John found a nice flat at Baker Street. The landlady was a lovely and kind woman. She explained that she had kept the flat for a friend for a while, but he had not turned up to claim it, so now she was renting it. After another week or two, John even managed to find a job at a local surgery.

His life still lacked adrenaline and adventures, but it was finally stable.

And then, he met the impossible man’s friend again, and his life changed for the second time.

He was called the Doctor and was a madman with a box. He did not seem to remember John, so the latter had never asked. Together, they went on adventures through time and space. Every once in a while, John called Mrs Hudson to make sure she and the flat were all right. Once or twice he invited the Doctor over for tea, when he felt that he should check up on Mrs Hudson in person. Her hip was not as it used to be, after all.

But one day, the Doctor began tinkering with his TARDIS. She didn’t seem to like that much. After a small disaster in the console room, they made an emergency stop in someone’s garden.

And that’s where John found his impossible man again. He had known the moment he had looked into those curious, grey eyes, even though his impossible man was now a boy. Or still was, timey-wimey. And his name was Sherlock Holmes.

The nameless, impossible man was Sherlock Holmes, the same one that had rushed out from St. Bart’s laboratory that day when Stamford had brought him round to meet a potential flatmate. The same one that Mrs Hudson had held the flat empty for. Sherlock Holmes, a consulting detective. John’s consulting detective.

And that was when John’s life changed for the third and final time. He now knew his story and he no longer looked for home. He knew where it was, and all he needed to do was wait.

After promising to come back, John and the Doctor disappeared from Sherlock Holmes’ garden. They were supposed to be away for five minutes, but with the Doctor it never went so smoothly.

Their first stop at Sherlock’s timeline was when the genius was six years old. The next one when he was twenty-one. But this stop did not go well.

As John stepped out of the TARDIS, he saw Sherlock lying on the floor, a used needle next to him. Locating a phone in the small flat took no time at all. Keeping Sherlock alive until the ambulance came took much longer. When he had heard the ambulance pull up, he found a piece and wrote down two words before leaving it on the coffee table and going back to the TARDIS.

The next time, John demanded they go to London on 29th of January 2011.

Just as he had opened the door to go and look for Sherlock, the man in question collided with him and they both fell on the TARDIS’ floor. When Sherlock looked into John’s eyes, the doctor knew had finally gotten it just right.

They travelled with the Doctor through time and space. They visited galaxies light years away and caught criminals long time dead. And it was wonderful. But John knew that this part of their lives had to come to an end.

But he was all right with that decision. He had Sherlock now. And the detective needed just one more adventure in the TARDIS before they could both settle in Baker Street.

He had lied to Sherlock the next time they were in London. He came back to the TARDIS and talked to the Doctor, explaining and saying his goodbyes. He asked him to take Sherlock to 1991, left a fake goodbye note for Sherlock and left the TARDIS for the last time.

He went back to Baker Street. He went back to his work. He had tea with Mrs Hudson. He lived his life. And he waited.

And after another two months (the Doctor never did master the precise landing, after all), the wait was over.

John had been making himself a cup of tea, when he heard banging on the front door, followed by the buzzers going off in all three flats, and then yet more banging. And he knew. He pulled out a second cup and poured water into it as well to brew a tea for the (un)expected guest.

When the tea was ready, he went out of the flat and stopped at the stairs, looking at the now opened door, where Mrs Hudson spoke to their guest.

There he stood, in a woollen coat, with a grin on his face, and just slightly out of breath.

“Hello, Sherlock,” said John.

“Hello, John,” answered Sherlock.

They were home. And this time, forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this story.  
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
